


Digression

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: This was, I am sorry to say, originally inspired by how Peter & Lois met in 'Family Guy' which just goes to show how much time I have spent thinking up scenarios for the Doctor & Rose.





	

Rose Tyler was bored, absolutely, inexorably, soul-crushingly bored. From an outside perspective she knew that Powell's elite country cub was beautiful with its rolling lawns, tree-lined horizons, shimmering lake, and crystal clear pool, but all Rose could see was the sameness of it all. The same conversations, the same expensive food, people who looked and acted and spoke like every other person she had ever come across. 

She was currently floating on her back in the pool and attempting to avoid her aunt Reinette. If there was something that Rose did that Reinette approved of, Rose had yet to hear about it. She was convinced that it was actually impossible to be everything a Tyler should and that people like Reinette were actually cyborgs in disguise. The idea gave her a moment of glee, but it was blotted out moments later by the general ennui that permeated Rose's entire life.

It crossed her mind (like it always did when she was most restless) that if her mother was still alive, she would never have put up with this nonsense - Jackie Prentice-Tyler had been her own person through and through, but there had been a boating accident when Rose was twelve and anyway, there was no point in wishing for things that were impossible. Pete had put his daughter's care and training in the hands of his sister and gone back to work and Reinette took her duty as raising the heir to the Tyler's fortune very seriously. 

With a deep sigh Rose flipped over to her stomach and swam to the side, exiting the pool by the ladder and trying to be mindful of her stomach and her shoulders and her steps. Glancing around for her towel she noticed it was missing from its usual spot on her chair.

"Aunt, have you seen my towel?" she asked politely, hoping it had just fallen off her chair or perhaps was being used to prop up her aunt's feet.

"No dear. Just ask the towel boy for another." Reinette hardly glanced up from where she was perusing a magazine for the latest celebrity gossip.

"Oh no, I'll get one myself." Rose shook her head at the thought of bothering someone to get her a towel, as if she couldn't manage to get her own.

"Nonsense Rose. That's what they're here for." Reinette lowered her magazine and snapped her fingers. "Towel boy! Fetch another towel for my niece."

Rose turned towards the unfortunate soul who had the thankless job of providing towels for rich schmucks and stopped short. He was young and gorgeous with artfully-tousled brown hair and seemingly miles of arms and legs. He deserved to be lounging on one of these chairs, preferably sans shirt, not handing out towels.

"Here's your towel, ma'am. Hope you like it. It's very soft and dry and clean, washed it myself this afternoon. Well, I didn't really wash it, more stuck it in the washer and then the dryer and then folded it. But I did add some detergent and made sure that it was really fluffy when it came out." He suddenly seemed to become aware that he was rambling because he shut his mouth and extended a towel in her direction.

"It does seem very fluffy," she agreed, grasping the edge of the towel and tugging it slightly. However he wasn't letting go, staring at her with a dazed look on his face. 

"Very fluffy. Fluffily fluffy. Is fluffily a word? It should be, seems like it should be. Supposed Webster didn't think about that one. Times like this, one needs a time machine to pop back and let him know, don't you think?" He smiled at her brightly, still not relinquishing the towel.

"If I had a time machine that's the first thing I'd do with it," Rose smiled at him, letting a hint of her tongue sneak between her teeth and watching as his face lost the remaining bits of color and then abruptly flamed red when Reinette cleared her throat.

"Are you actually going to give her the towel or are you both going to play tug-of-war for the remainder of the afternoon?" Reinette demanded. 

"Right. Towel. Here's the towel. Enjoy the towel. Dry yourself with the towel." He released the towel and turned on his heel, disappearing rapidly in the direction of the staff entrance.

Rose watched him go, forgetting about everything that wasn't watching his fantastic arse sway through the crowd. She recollected herself when Reinette delicately coughed into her hand and glanced after the towel boy with a scathing look.

"Honestly I should report him, being that free with the guests," she said with a disdainful sniff.

"Oh no, don't do that. I'm fine. No harm done. He was just making conversation," Rose exclaimed, hastily wrapping the much-discussed towel around herself and sinking down in the lounge chair beside her aunt.

"Well there's no need for the help to make conversation. They aren't here to talk to, they are here to serve." Reinette shook her head as if the fate of the world had been in danger because of his actions. "And Rose, don't sit down like that. You look like an anchor being dropped at sea. You need to sit delicately, being aware of every motion of your body at all times."

Rose tuned out the speech, she'd heard it a hundred times before and had no desire to hear it again. She nodded at all the right spots, but her mind wandered back to the towel boy. That three minute conversation held more interest to her than anything she'd done in the past month and it bothered her no little bit. Not because she had enjoyed speaking to "the help" as Reinette had put it, but because literally nothing else of interest every happened and she was tired of her life being planned out like a book. 

The familiar feel of discontent followed her throughout the rest of the afternoon as she got ready for the dance that evening. It was a weekly affair at the club, a time of inexorable boredom as people made little jabs at one another while sipping champagne and moving to tinny music. No matter how often she pleaded with Reinette not to force her to attend, her aunt was steadfast, firmly believing it would be the perfect opportunity to meet one of the eligible bachelors who would turn the Tyler fortune into a small empire. So far this had meant Adam Mitchell (an absolute snob who talked relentlessly of plastic surgery) or Mickey Smith (a nice, but very boring bloke) or Toby Zed (a practicing Satanist) - none of whom appealed to Rose at all.

The familiar strains of Debussy met Rose and Reinette at the door to the dance hall and Rose had to repress a familiar shudder. She'd liked Debussy before she'd swayed to his music with annoying jackals who wanted her money and her virginity. Refusing to make more than passing eye contact with anyone, Rose skirted the edges of the dance floor looking for a quiet place to watch the show without being forced to participate in it. 

Everything went just fine for the first thirty minutes and then she caught sight of Gabriel Sneed (an older gentleman with wandering hands) making his deliberate way through the crowd towards her and she'd had enough. With hardly a backward glance she ducked out of the side door and onto the balcony. It was such a relief to be away from the cloying smell of money that she could hardly do more than stand still, gripping the railing and taking deep breaths of the cool night air. 

Gradually she became aware that she could hear music of a different sort. Moving to the far side of the balcony, she peered over and saw light spilling out onto the lawn from a party going on downstairs. She didn't give herself time to think, hurrying down the stairs and tentatively pushing open the door marked "Staff Entrance." 

The scene that greeted her eyes was as different from what was going on upstairs as night was to day. Here it was bright and cheerful, full of laughing people who were kicking their heels up and obviously having a grand time doing so. She hardly had time to take it all in before the towel boy from earlier suddenly materialized in front of her, his face split by a wide grin. He grabbed her hand, pulling her forward and spinning her around. It took her only a moment to find her feet and then she was meeting him step for step, eyes trained on his warm brown ones.

One dance led to another and then another and it seemed as if she would never tire. Not all of the dances were with him, occasionally other partners stole her away, but he was never far away, coming back to claim her time and time again. Despite only knowing him for a few hours, she was surprised how fully relaxed she felt in his arms, how she missed him when she danced with others, and how delighted she was when he stole her back again.

She couldn't help the occasional glances over her shoulder, afraid that Reinette would suddenly appear to whisk her away, and eventually he picked up on her concern, teasing her about glass slippers and pumpkin coaches and wicked step-mothers. She laughed at his jokes and as the night progressed and Reinette refrained from appearing, relaxed more and more.

It was nearly dawn when the party finally broke up and he offered to drive her home. Somehow her hand ended up in his, their fingers intertwined, and she dreaded letting go. When he pulled up in front of the Tyler mansion, she stayed where she was, unable to face the reality that this perfect night was coming to an end. His rambling voice broke through her thoughts, something about a trip and anywhere and if she wanted and she threw his arms around his neck because she absolutely wanted. As they pulled back out of the driveway, he asked her if she was really sure and she just laughed and kissed his cheek.

Years later, after Reinette deigned to speak to them again (Pete had, after all, left his entire fortune to his wayward daughter) and after they had traveled to every continent and long after she knew his real name and that he snored at night and how he liked his eggs, she still liked to call him Towel Boy just because she could and because it reminded her that sometimes fairytales did come true.


End file.
